Can't say it to someone's face? Come and say it here.

[Summerbreezes]

I'm in a Facebook group that I very helpful and useful, but one of the admins is irritating AF. Practically everything she does is annoying. I can't say this to her because then I'd probably get banned.

I hope you were talking about yourself in your latest update about how people need to stop judging other people. Are you for fucking real? Did you just tell other people to be kind?

Have a read at some of your recent CAPS ON judgy shite. Oh the fuckin hypocrisy!

Stop pretending you still love me like you used to and nothing has changed. It hurts more that you lie to me like this than it would if you admitted the fucking truth.

And I still love you the same way and this is breaking me.

Not quite sure why you've taken the hump and defriended a group of us but go have your hissy fit and when you've grown up and want to discuss, call one of us because we will not be contacting you and doing the whole 'you ok hun?'

I feel trapped

I don't want you in my life as a friend but you persist. You are racist despite your denials and I loathe racists and you are ignorant.

I try to cut any contact with you as short as I feel able but you don't get the hint. At least lockdown has meant no meeting but it will end and I'll be back to trying to limit how often I see you.

I don't have the guts to tell you how I feel which makes me feel pathetic.

I don't want to hear you singing
--shrieking- Jesus hymns at work. There's no special dispensation given for being a Christisn. & You're paid to work, not preach by stealth to a captive audience. It's fucking rude making all that noise and I don't want to listen to it. Which is why I take great pleasure in putting in my earphones shortly after you start. I know it annoys you as you then get even louder but I'm not giving you the satisfaction of knowing I can still hear you. Anyway, you become white noise after a little while. Others don't like it but won't say anything. Nor will I, it's not worth my time - unless you dare say a single preachy word directly to me, or comment about my earphones.

My childhood friend, you stood by me when I was a cantankerous teenager. You went walks, listened to me, was a calming influence. You came to my wedding. You jetted round the world with your jobs while I was busy having babies, but you always came back. Always supportive, always a friend, never criticised my stupid mistakes.

We saw less of each other but we were always in touch. When I reached my lowest point in life you were at the end of a telephone, even half way across the world. Practically you gave me money and bailed me out...for that I still believe you were a guardian angel.

When you had cancer I listened and listened, but you were always a fighter. I thought you had beaten it. Our lives moved on. When your cancer came back I was in a different part of the country and working 24/7. When you were at your worst, I wasn't there. I didn't even get to your funeral; I was too busy at work. Someone sent me a photograph of the church service with so many people there, there were crowds outside the church door. You touched many people's lives.

It was years ago and I still think of you. I never gave you enough time, I should have been there for you. You were guardian angel to my family when we needed it but I didn't, in the end, do the same for you. I now know that no job is more important than people, than friends. Please forgive me, I was so wrong....you were the very best.

I know you're capable of butting out and not constantly micromanaging your kids' parenting of your grandkids, because you've managed it with DB and DSIL over the last couple of years. And it's not because DB is a better parent than I am, because I'm not the one who had an emotional affair with a married woman when his wife had recently given birth to his child. No, I know that it's because you think that sons must never be criticised, in case they sod off and you never see them again. But daughters have limits too.

PS I know you think that bastard you live with is a saint but he pestered me and sent me inappropriate texts and emails for years. He sent me porn, for God's sake. I know I wasn't a kid - I was in my twenties - but I was vulnerable and taking antidepressants and he was old enough to be my father. He made me so scared that I was physically ill anytime I heard a notification on my phone. I hate his guts. But you're my mother and it was your job to notice when I suddenly started doing absolutely anything to avoid being alone with him. It was your job to be someone I could tell the truth without knowing that you'd brush it all under the carpet and stay with him.